Consequence
by Mach56
Summary: Salem has wanted to get underneath Ozpin's skin for the longest time, and thanks to the latest events from Beacon, she finally has what she needs. No longer a Oneshot, now a two-shot, and possibly a three-shot. R&R
1. Cruel Consequence

.

Cruel Consequence, Collateral Damage

* * *

"Burn, Ozpin. Do you fear the flames? How violently they will tear away at you? All your failed ambitions coming home to roost?"

Salem would have enjoyed her diatribe that much more if she got a reaction out of the headmaster, who stood calmly in her presence, making absolutely no motion to resist or protest. Their verbal spars often resulted in this horrendous, boring stalemate, and Salem had grown tired of it long, long ago.

"What sort of resistance is this, Ozpin? This is the best you can do? Do you think that being quiet will somehow deliver humanity from me?"

The man adjusted his bent and broken spectacles a dull and subdued response to her aggression and spite.

"No, I wouldn't say that."

"Well then let me know, dear headmaster. How is it like to see the end play out in front of you? What will it take for you to come to terms with your defeat?"

The man just stood there, defiant and not answering. So the witch elaborated.

"When Mistral falls? When sweet, white Atlas blackens in smoke and fire? When the people of Vacuo are driven into the sea? Tell me Ozpin, must I snuff out every single spark of hope to make it clear that your plans are finished?"

"There is much more than just kingdoms left in play, Salem. There are-"

She laughed now, and the dust-scarred landscape seemed to titter along with her, as charcoal Grimm gazed upon the exchange between the two players.

"Oh gods, yes, your inner circle, how could I forget? Sweet Glynda, the Qrow kid, stubborn Sir Ironwood. Ah... and your newest batch of martyrs, along with your very own silver-eyed warrior. How could I forget..."

She waved her hand around her head, feigning confusion and disbelief.

"How deep does your denial go? Can't you see that they are doomed?"

She took a couple steps down towards the man, her calm frustration not drawing out a reaction.

"How many times have we gone through this, Ozpin dear... After Team STRQ's absolutely stupendous collapse, I thought you would have learned..."

That dragged out a frown from the man and Salem smiled at the negative emotion.

"Oh, but now we're onto JNPR... Oh, no, not them anymore... RWBY... Oh yes, they'll surely get it right. This time for sure! Not like all of those other countless... failures...Ozpin, Ozpin, _Ozpin_! You can't _possibly_ believe this."

No response yet again from the defiant hunter.

"You keep pining for that one 'simple soul', don't you? That one sweet creature that will prove you convictions right, grant you victory?"

They were almost standing on the same level, but Salem wouldn't give him the decency.

"You were wrong every single time. Latest failures include... Summer Rose. Raven Brawen. Sweet Maiden Amber... Young Pyrrha Nikos. You have wronged, again and again. But I think I understand now."

Those black eyes seemed to glow with a shadow, flickering with a perverse sense of vindication and enlightenment.

"You think you will be saved: That someone else's triumph somewhere far, far along the road will free you. Free you from guilt, from responsibility, from consequence. That fever dream of victory, far off in the future, will somehow make all of your sacrifices, all of the grief, worth it. Necessary. Just."

Ozpin stared right back into her cold, blackened eyes, shaking his head. He spoke back.

"I'm not quite sure you understand: I have long accepted my past and future failures, Salem. I do not run from them."

"That's exactly it!" Triumph blossomed in Salem's face, as she drew forth her aura, letting the dark energy reach out, dragging at something from beyond, "Selfish, selfish child, that is and always will be what you are, Ozpin."

Fractals of orange light winked into existence, dragged forth by turbulent winds and dark forces and Salem's outstretched, grasping hand.

"You think that you will be the one to suffer. The only one: That your culpability condemns you, and you alone."

Ozpin sighed as the orange freckles linked and lined up, falling into place, tiny puzzle pieces comprising a whole.

"Thank you, Cinder Fall. You've given me a most excellent example." Salem reflected happily as the figure neared dust lost its luster and faded into darkness and flesh, leaving behind the form of a fallen. Salem held the limp figure by the neck, shaking it like a rag doll to accentuate it's fate. She questioned him, incredulous and cynical, a dark snicker on her face.

"Dead as a doornail, you see? What… what the hell were you thinking?"

Ozpin didn't even address the corpse in front of him, continuing to hold Salem's gaze with determined resistance. Salem grinned even wider, and she her mockery continued to wear down the headmaster.

"But don't worry, Oz dear. She will decay, her body to ash and food for the soil. The slate will be wiped clean… Forgotten so that you can continue to go about, picking and choosing people's destinies without fear. That's the sort of ending you cling to."

Salem grasped the arrow lodged in the dead thing's chest, making it burn red and black with dark aura, tearing it out all in one piece and in one smooth motion, before brandishing it to the world. In the center of Cinder's arrowhead, a red, gelatinous bulb glowed drearily within the confines of its cage, weeping red and orange aura that lazily fluttered down and out of existence. The dead remains of Pyrrha Nikos collapsed to the floor in a motionless form as Salem released her grip and instead fixated on the dust arrow, turning it over and toying with the imprisoned. The soul held on like dew to a thread, a bead that followed gravity, but unable to escape its bond to the projectile.

Ozpin's eyes darkened, and for the first time the headmaster was in motion as he grimaced in sickening revelation.

"Let her pass, Salem. She is dead. She has no part left to play."

"No part left to play? Now you see... You have the gall to implore me to let her spirit pass on, after what you wanted to do to her? To Amber? _Hypocrite_."

The blackness already started to leak out from Pyrrha's wound, staining and exuding from her body. Ozpin saw the darkness begin to seep through her pale white skin as darkness began to infect her veins, possess her body.

"No worries. Ozpin: Pyrrha Nikos is most certainly dead and gone..." the witch laughed, watching the darkness rise up from the huntress, a bone-white carapace emerging from the black monstrosity.

"But your failure, it will live on. Collateral damage for all of your other immoral little dreams and hopes, hmm?"

The being stirred at Salem's command, a freshly created Grimm forming, planting its legs beneath itself as it began to rise and take a more corporeal form. Fingers drowned into the tar, sharpened into vicious claws, her face drenched with blackness, as a white mask emerged from it, obscuring her identity. Her hair was preserved in the ooze as it sharpened into some black-red mane, a powerful mass of muscle and shadow expanding outward...

It's gaping jaw opened and roared in fury, soul-less and empty, an echoing scream longing for completion, before it shuddering to the side, bent to Salem's hostage soul. The Dragons nestling at the side of Salem's staircase stirred, and a number of contorted, corrupted abominations shuddered at the new twisted addition to their ranks.

Ozpin looked straight at Salem in disappointed, disgusted look, as Salem looked down gleefully.

"Look, Ozpin! Gaze upon your creation. As we know, Grimm require time to mature, to grow wise and effective warrior-killers. But this specimen..."

The Grimm had continued to metastasize, a twisted, the pale white chitinous plating forming around its matter, growing segmented and compact, a twisted imitation of a Mistralian war armor to house its dark form.

"It has at least seventeen years of experience and knowledge at its inception! All of those _memories_ , Ozpin! It knows how your little students think, how they fight, how they _fear_... I can't think of a better way to douse those bright little sparks of yours."

The monster loosed another grievous screech, as if in some mortal torment, some tragic awareness and consciousness, lacking a single drop of soul to resist Salem's control. Ozpin averted his gaze as it howled before dashing off through the dust-riddled landscape, frenzied and jealous and desperate to draw blood, to consume life. Salem and the dark entourage watched it disappear into the horizon, spectators awaiting the show. Ozpin glared straight ahead at Salem, spiteful of her cruelty, yet powerless to do anything.

"At last, you have your just deserts, Ozpin. Finally, I can be the one to mete out justice. You used her, just like everyone else, and now you suffer the consequences. Now..."

Salem laughed as she began to walk up the ascent once more, back up towards the broken moon.

"Where were we?"

* * *

Fin


	2. The Psychosis of a Grimm

.

The Psychosis of a Grimm

* * *

Consciousness was dim, and only one thought echoed in her mind. Something was wrong, terribly wrong. Something was missing.

Where is it?

Hands on the steps, pushing her suddenly animated, sickly warm and shivering body upwards to an upright position.

 _Where is it?!_

Hands sharpen as darkness envelops them, flexing in trauma and in raw emotion, fear. Her neck cranes backward as she stares at the dust stained sky. Her heart, along with every fiber of her body, shudders and seizes in dread.

 _I CAN'T FEEL IT!_

Around her, she hears the dull speech of a victorious leader, who pauses in appreciation. The silence is suffocating and overwhelming, an emptiness that forces her mouth to open in a soundless gasp, before she vocalizes her torment.

 _ **" "̴͠I͢ ͏͟͠ḐON̡̛͢'͞T͟ ̕͝K̢̨NO͝W̛ ̛͢WH͞͡E̴̵RE҉̕͏ ̴̴͝ I͢T̡̀ ͜Ì́S̨̛͠!́"̨**_

All she can hear is a horror-filled, incoherent scream, human words suddenly foreign and without purpose. As the howl peters out, her name and her identity quietly slip away, beyond grasp.

The new Grimm knows what it must do, what… who it must kill, just as the dark master explains its mission to Headmaster Ozpin. The memories of the prey are vivid in the mind, along with their habitats and characteristics.

The hunt begins.

* * *

Throughout its journey, the creature searches desperately, constantly, but it can't find it. In a way, the Grimm doesn't fully comprehend what it's searching for: Only that in its absence, there is a thirst, a hunger, an emptiness that flickers deep within the cage of being, excruciating and unendurable. The only escape from the anxiety and despair is exertion. Strain. Exhaustion.

So, without any coherent answers, it distracts itself, dashing and constantly gorging on sensations, no matter how quickly they slipped away... Instantaneously: a vessel without a bottom. All thoughts, from dreams of freedom to nightmares of enslavement, all pass the same way, leaving the creature unaffected and unchanged.

The smells of flowers, of earth and sky, all became so dull and uninspiring in the first waking hours. Or maybe it was the volcanic ash clogging its nostrils. No matter.

There are other sensations to hunt, leaving the dust-riddle land behind.

It takes what seems like eons, new sensations present themselves before instantly wilting and losing vibrance. It is infuriating, to see trees but… not appreciate, not recognize. As if everything was a blur, everything forgotten, everything pointless and unimportant.

Must keep hunting for meaning. For soul.

* * *

Deep in the confines of its conscious, it knows how fearful humans are of dying. How disgusted they are of killers and murderers, traitors and monsters.

So it felt absolutely terrible, ripping into a person's neck and letting the red torrent surge forth.

But just as quickly as the guilty feelings came, they went. It happened with the other humans as well, the grief and horror passing on in a moment, the compulsion triumphing over the thought.

What a relief.

 _In fact, the common belief is that the Grimm are not obligated to feed... they choose to._

It was true. The disgust and nausea disappeared with the first couple wet clumps, replaced with a sensation of bliss: Long after the aura and the soul died, its phantom traces seemed to remain in the flesh, and in consumption, within the Grimm. The sensation clung to the monster, slowly draining away, but still there minutes afterward. Hunger sated.

And for a few couple wonderful moments, the Grimm felt some... semblance of being whole again.

That strength died quickly, and with it, the desperation returned. The hatred and jealousy festered immediately for the soul-ful, the complete ones. The Grimm fervently sought them out, quickly learning how to recognize their scent and sense their fear.

What helped the most was the Grimm's former knowledge and experience with humans, as a human. Dispatching foes was simple, their attacks or defenses easy to read, counter, and overwhelm. Maps read long ago were effective instruments for seeking out towns and villages, roads became highways for stalking and tracking travelers.

As well as finding its way to the objective. The goal that the master ordained.

Unfortunately, like a drug, the more consumed, the less the effect. Concepts of civility were discarded quickly, taste became generalized. Beggars could not choose. Everything was edible.

It just maddened the wandering Grimm further.

Closer to the settlement limits, guns and their accelerated little pellets of dust provided some novel sensations of pain. Flickering thoughts dreamed of parting this wall of metal balls through sheer willpower, but the Grimm quickly realized it was lacking the critical element.

It was then that coordination with fellow soul-less beasts became effective. They were the mechanisms in which she could scale the walls without interference, distractions for the defenders. In the blackened smoke of human despair, the feast commenced and the charcoal brethren howled at their messiah, praising it for the victory.

The Grimm's fangs and jaw contort into some disbelieving grin, as the howls reverberating through its body and help fill its emptiness.

Being an alpha is a delight. So much easier to overrun caravans, the larger the better. No sorrow for lost comrades, no fears of inadequacy or failure. Just showing the way and seeing humans break ranks and surrender to the black tide. It was such a wonderful time, romping across the landscape, sowing fear and terror into the hearts of the humans. The flaring pain of existential contradiction quieted and muffled.

The kingdoms were in chaos, it was clear to see. The amount of humans scrambling and traveling around the landscape told them that much. Was war a possibility? Trains ran at full speed, carrying vehicles of war and fighters of all sorts.

Then the hunters came, their bright colors and elaborate insignias, deadly weapons shredding through the pack. The Grimm must have been causing too much damage, getting too close to the vulnerable human populations for them to be left unaddressed. The team of four cleared the pack with ease, synchronous and formulaic. Their eyes gleamed so brightly, so brave, so heroic.

They barely scratched the alpha's armor. One lone spike protruding from its back was snapped off by the end of the fight, but at the cost of their lives. They were simply not strong enough, their semblances… unimpressive.

One of them, a girl with golden hair, had the emblem of two golden rainbows amidst a white backdrop. There was no doubt that she was related to one of the Alpha Grimm's targets. The delightful cascade of emotions that swelled within were sickening and horrendous, borderline insane, but gone so fast.

One thought remained, lingering longer than any other sensation prior. For at least three heartbeats it remained in the consciousness.

 _Unforgivable._

Inspiration to follow the dark commander's orders intensified. Perverse thoughts: What would it be like, how would it feel, finding him? Killing him?

But no matter what emotions that question created, the revulsion to the terror to the hysteria to the suicidal thoughts, it was momentary thought that faded like all of the others. No impression, no impact.

Curiously, that one thought kept petering in and out of her mind. Constantly living and dying:

 _Unforgivable._

* * *

Acolytes of the dark one, Salem. They blocked the Alpha's path, confident in their safety. A man, a woman, and their leader, who wore the insignia of Salem to confirm their allegiance. It was true, the beast could not kill these three. They were superiors.

How humorous, that the killer of Pyrrha Nikos would be the leader. The hunter known as Mercury expressed a similar opinion, and also complimented on the Grimm's appearance.

"Too monstrous, for my taste… Would have been better plain: no baggage and armor to cover her up, you know? What's the point of using her if _they_ can't see it?"

"First and foremost," Cinder explained, her scarred face looking down from above, "She is a tool for hunting down RWBY. Not some method of psychological warfare."

"Aww, c'mon!. Why not pry off the mask a bit, let them see her face? What harm would that do?" Mercury prodded, stepping forward to inspect their new underling.

"Mercury…" The green haired girl began, before Cinder stepped in front of the renegade and stopped his approach.

"You're no fun," Mercury sighed, "Ever since 'Lil Red' gave you that lightshow…"

"Don't. Test. Me." Cinder hissed, staring Mercury down with a tone almost as bestial as a Grimm, "You're going to end up like Roman with that sort of arrogance."

Or you. Was the unspoken response. It was clear to see from Cinder's wounds that she had been dealt quite the setback. A dark satisfaction bloomed within, quickly fading into the darkness, but enough to make the Grimm purr.

Cinder spun around, placing her frustration and anger onto the aura-less creature.

"Oh, how adorable. Lets get to business, then! Team RWBY and JNPR, does that ring any bells to you? Hm?"

The purring stopped.

"Yes, you're a smart one for sure," Cinder spat, still spiteful, "They're a days journey away, traveling to Vacuo in hopes of pursuing the leaders of the White Fang. We're going to intercept them at the train platform overlooking Forever Fall. Do you know what to do then, Pyrrha dearest?"

The name only served it irritate the alpha, who shied away from Cinder's glare. But the Maiden of Fall would not allow it: the glove on her right hand shown with bloody malice, forcing the Grimm to return the stare.

"You're going to help us kill them. Mercury, Adam and I shall take care of Team RWBY, while you and Emerald dispatch JNPR. Understand?"

The response came without warning. The Grimm screeched, enough to make the red leaves of the trees and the blades of grass bend over from the force of fury. An incoherent roar of affirmation, with a single word drowning within the meaningless noise.

 _ **"͢͏D͠I҉E͟!̷͢"͟**_

Cinder smirked. It seemed that she could understand the captive Grimm's agonized, dismay-stricken hatred, while the other two grunts just covered their ears and flinched at the wall of sound.

"Good girl."

* * *

Ren frowned as the wave of sound crashed over them, echos from a demon far off in the distance, as lonesome and unaccompanied as a howl of a wolf. His friends glanced up from their own trains of thought, pausing and looking the trees, out towards the horizon.

"That was…"

"One incredibly pissed Grimm..." Yang finished for Weiss, her robotic arm flickering to life as it aura flowed through it, "How far off, Ren?"

"It's near, maybe a days run away." Ren responded, thinking hard about the scream, "We should have a two guards if we're going to make camp."

"I thought it was a death knell," Jaune muttered, very much preoccupied and disturbed by the sudden noise, "So much... pain in that sound."

"Don't dwell on it." Ren asserted, patting his leader on the back.

Ruby, Jaune and the rest of the group nodded in agreement and began to move forward, continuing the quest and mentally preparing for the battles ahead.

* * *

End Chapter


End file.
